


Now That’s Comedy

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Circus, Clowns, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Funny how things turn out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now That’s Comedy

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #9: **Choose your own (mis)adventure.** Use one or more of the following words in today's entry: _pratfall, spit-take, faceplant, head-smack, double-take, slip_. (All of the words appear in this offering.)

“Watson, you are being unreasonable about this,” Holmes said sternly from behind the eggs and bacon he was voraciously devouring. “Surely you concede that the cause was just.”

Dead silence from behind the morning paper, which did not lower by an inch. And if Watson did not lower the paper, Holmes could not employ his most effective means of persuasion with his lodger, which was the most soulful look his large dark eyes could make.

Since he couldn’t use his eyes, he kept using his words. “Together we were able to catch the child traffickers – you, by keeping the instigators distracted and under surveillance whilst I led the police to the holding tent during the performance.”

The newspaper rustled a little as Watson’s knuckles whitened with his grip.

Desperate, Holmes continued. “Watson, you were _brilliant_ in that ring – we could hear the laughter from across the circus grounds! Every prat-fall, head-smack and spit-take you took convinced the other clowns that you were one of them. And it’s tradition for the new clown to bear the brunt of the slapstick routines. A little plaster in your hair or seltzer down your trousers may very well have saved fifteen orphans from a horrific fate.”

“People. I. Knew. Were in that audience,” Watson’s voice grated, very lowly.

Holmes snorted. “Watson, could you identify any of the other clowns without their paint and wigs? I assure you, old fellow, you may greet your friends at your club without fear that they will recognise the same ‘Jackie Boy’ they and their children laughed at between the liberty horses and the lion tamer.”

Each word grated like ice floes against each other. “I’m very sure, Holmes, that Carstairs, who likes to spar with me at the club gymnasium, recognised the right hook I used to bring down the ringleader during the routine.”

 

The detective shrugged. “Everyone else thought your assailing Kinnison was part of the act – and the way Lestrade’s men couldn’t help but slip on the banana peels on their way to arrest the smugglers made everyone laugh harder. It was a perfect ruse.”

Silence. One hand disappeared, and Holmes heard a news page turn.

“Watson.” Sherlock Holmes used his most pleading tone, the one John Watson could never resist not even in his worst temper. “Surely you concede that the loss of a little dignity is well worth the results.”

A long pause. “Agreed,” Watson said, with genuine warmth in his voice.

Sherlock Holmes smiled with relief.

The newspaper dropped. The doctor’s free hand held a pie.

Holmes did a double-take.

“Wa-“

FACEPLANT.

“You’re quite right, Holmes.” Watson’s voice sounded downright jovial – or it could have been the custard in his ears. “I feel a good deal better about my role in this case.”


End file.
